Trams, Trains and Automobiles

Virtually every city, town and village in Holland is connected by some form of public transport. Lots of Dutch people, tourists and expatriates use the many trains, trams, taxis, buses, metros, water taxis and ferries to travel around the country every day. Since I don’t have a car (and have not driven in nine years) I also use public transport quite a lot for travelling to and from work. In the mornings I spend a groggy train journey trying to wake up before getting crammed into a tram with everyone else.

In general the Dutch public transport is a lot better then the public transport in England. The trains and buses are cleaner, there are fewer delays, fewer strikes and fewer mistakes. However, there are still a few things travellers need to be aware of as they travel around the country.

A common way to pay for travel between zones on buses, trams and metro lines is with a strippenkaart (Strip Card). Every time a strippenkaart is used it has to be stamped in one of its free spaces. The amount of zones being travelled reflects how many of the free spaces should to be used (plus one). If you are ever lucky enough to completely fill a Strippenkaart don’t forget to shout ‘full house’ and claim your prize from the driver.

When travelling by train it is always important to keep your wits about you. This is because the NS (Dutch rail company) employees enjoy playing mind games with commuters. One of the train operators’ favourite games to play just before departure is to close all the doors apart from one at the far end of the train. They do this to give last second late arrivals hope. The conductor can often be seen leaning out of the last door so they can watch panicked commuters run in desperation. Then, just as the victim arrives at the door it is closed and the train starts to move away, leaving them cursing and out of breath on the platform.

Train announcers don't miss out on the fun either and will often wait until the last moment to announce platform changes. They might have a score system with extra points given for the amount of suitcases a tourist has to drag behind them or they may just enjoy watching commuters run back and forth.

The trains themselves usually have more first class compartments then are actually needed. First class tickets might cost a lot of money and entitle their users to a certain level of luxury but one carriage per first class passenger seems a bit over the top.

Commuters may be the victims on the trains but by the time they reach the trams the shoe is on the other foot. Maybe it is because of the frustration they have suffered at the hands of the train operators that they treat the trams with such aggression. There are several rules of engagement when attempting to successfully board a tram.

1. There is no such thing as a queue for a tram only a mass of people all trying to get on at once.
   
2. Elbows determine who gets on first.
3. Exit Only and Entrance Only signs on tram doors are there to be ignored.
4. When the tram operator tries to close the doors to leave it is customary to simply force them open again.
5. There is always room for more people even if passengers are already hanging out of the windows.
6. The best time to push passed a fellow passenger is as the tram takes a sharp corner at speed.

Despite having no power over the actions of commuters tram operators stay quite cheery and will often try to make the journey more interesting for their tormentors by singing out the names of stops. Dam Square might suddenly become “D-du-du-da-dam Squareeeeeeee” or Spui might become “Spu.. spu.. spuiiiiiiiiiiii.” To my knowledge there has not been a tram sing-a-long but it might happen one day.

Tram operators sometimes help tourists as well by announcing near by attractions when arriving at a stop. If there is a group of loud English lads on the tram the operator makes a point to announce Dam Square as the stop for the Red Light District. This might seem like it is playing on an unfair stereotype but you'd be surprised the amount of times one in the group will shout to his friends, “This is our stop.”

Drawing the Cartoons

I first drew the cartoons I use for this blog about three years ago. The look of the characters has not changed much but the way I draw them has evolved a lot as I've learnt more about PhotoShop. I've always enjoyed playing with the program and it has been fun drawing the cartoons again. The complements I have received from different people have made both myself and my ego very happy. I've started giving serous thoughts to doing something more with the cartoons (as some of you have suggested) but no promises yet. However, since I've had a few requests to divulge how I draw them I thought it might be fun to make this post and show how I put them together.

I have a few tricks I use now for making the cartoons quicker but I'll start at the beginning and come back to those tricks later.

I start by scanning the original hand drawn cartoon into the computer and tracing over it with the Pen Tool. It's a great tool for drawing smooth curved lines by placing Anchor Points were curves should begin and end. After the Anchor Points have been placed the line between them can be adjusted with the handles to create a curve. Once I have a curve I am happy with I use the Stroke option to draw the line. Each body parts is created on a separate layer. I'll come back to the reason for that later.

Then I create new layers behind each body part and use them to colour the image. I colour in behind the lines so I can get right up to the edge. Eventually I merge the lines and colour together but keep each body part on a different layer.

Next comes the shadows. This is also done on another layer (for each body part) but this time on top of all the other layers. I colour the areas where I want shadows with black and then set the opacity of the layer to 20%. This lets the colour and lines underneath shows through creating the look of shadows. The layers are then merged again per body part. This creates the finished character.


Now I'll go back to those tricks I mentioned and the reason why I create each body part on a different layer. If you have a weak stomach and do not wish to see a cartoon character pulled limb from limb look away now.

Having each body part separate makes it possible to create new images quickly by moving the parts around or re-drawing just one part. Each time I create a new part for a cartoon I add it to my library of parts in case it can be adapted for use again later.

I've put together a video to show how this all works. The first part is a quick demonstration of how I can use this process to make facial expressions. The second part shows how I turned my template image in to the cartoon used for today's post.

Click here to veiw the video and enjoy.

The Writers Battle

This morning I sat down at my computer ready to write (what I hope would be) another informative and funny post about life in Holland. I had a few ideas going around in my head but nothing fully formed yet. It was a sea of possibilities, time to turn my thoughts into text on a computer screen. Everything was set. I was ready to begin. I put my fingers to keyboard but then something happened. 'It' attacked.

We've all encountered it. The dark force, the evil that creeps amongst us, the sinister entity, devoid of any morals, uncaring of who's life it destroys. I'm talking about the darkness that is Writers Block.

Only moments after I had begun it started whispering in my ear, making me doubt the few words I had on the screen while at the same time making the backspace button look so inviting. I battled with it for a while in a violent dance of keystrokes and deletion but I was powerless. I had to give up and let it win.

I tried to get on with other things afterwards but its mocking laughter kept on ringing in my ears. It was then that I had an idea. Some thing so crazy that 'it' would never expect and would be unable to stop me. That idea was this post. I have embrace Writers Block and written about it. If Writers Block saps all inspiration out of a subject then what happens when Writers Block is the subject itself? It would either have to sap the power out of itself or retreat.

I have found a way to beat it this time but I have only won the battle, not the war. Writers block is still out there. It is pure evil and can never truly be stopped. It creeps through our written language, feeding on the doubt of writers every where. Its diabolical goal is to destroy the world of literacy forever but we can not let it win.

Since I doubt my idea of forming an elite force of writers from history (Charles Dickens, Shakespeare, J R Tolkin, etc) for the final battle against Writers Block will work why don't you all share with us how you deal with Writers Block.

Technology

One of my early movie memories is from a scene in Superman 3. At the end of the movie Lex Luther builds a huge super computer with the help of Richard Prior in order to defeat superman. Of course his plan fails but not before the gigantic computer pulls one of Lex's own people into itself (it also tries to do the same to Superman). It starts to take them over, wrapping wires around their body and fixing computer parts to their skin until they become a deadly robot under its control. I remember the sequence well because while the scene fascinated me it also scared the life out of me. The scene is probably quite tame compared to the horrific images I remember but at the time it was terrifying to think a computer could do such a thing.

As I grew older I realized the chances of this human body hijack actually happening in real life were quite low (as were my chances of ever meeting Superman) and computers would never be that advanced. Whenever I wanted to play Dig-Dug my Dad had to type in lines of code on the family Acorn computer. At the time I could never imagine a computer being as powerful as in the movie but of course technology got more advanced. A few years later I had to spend hours swapping floppy disks on my Amiga to play Maniac Mansion. Another couple of years later I had to twiddle my thumbs while my 58k modem connected to the servers to play Jedi Knight: Dark Forces. In a few years time maybe I’ll be downloading World of Warcraft directly into my brain but for now I have to settle for what I have… which is still a lot.

Between my flat mate and myself we have more bandwidth then the average Borg Cube, more processing power then the Death Star, more RAM then the Tradis and more Hard Drive space than The Matrix. Every device in the house is connected. All the computers, laptops, PSPs, PDAs and so on that we have are all connected via wire or wireless technology. If you can stream it, encrypt it, network it, transmit it, zip it, print it, code it I can now do it and more.

This also means I can access the internet and any of my files from almost any where. Last weekends post was written from the comfort of my balcony while enjoying the sun and streaming music from my computer inside the house (I also added a reader’s map to this blog for fun). I can even log onto my home computer from work.

Of course this is all great but who knows what might happen with that amount of technology networked together. One day they might unexpectedly form a self aware conscience. Maybe it has already started. I might wake up one morning to find myself cocooned in wires like the scene from Superman 3 as the combined computer power puts its plan for world domination into motion. The Cybergeddon. The day humans become slaves to computers.

It’s probably best if I never download Superman 3 and give it ideas.

Forgetfulness

Forgetfulness always seems to strike at the worst time possible. I don't mean the kind of memory black outs that come with a night of heavy drink that leave you confused and puzzled when you weak up in a tree with a cardboard cut out of Ann Robinson and no idea how you got there. I am talking about just plain, normal forgetfulness. I should probably point out that I have never woken up in a tree with a cardboard cut out of The Weakest Link host. Given some of the things I have written about so far in my blog I can understand why it might seem like I was listing a personal example.

I like to think I have a good memory. I can usually remember things very well but there are still some days when it seems like most gold fish have better recall. This Saturday for example my forgetfulness was due to a combination of sleep deprivation and a rather heavy hangover.

After an afternoon of being very useless and recovering on the sofa I was finally able to drag myself out of the house to do some shopping. Unfortunately I forgot to take my memory with me. After I came very close to locking myself out of the house I remembered it would probably be a good idea to take my keys with me. After all it would probably have been quite a shock for my flat mate to come home and find me dead and cooked on the doorstop by heat stroke.

After this near fatal forgetfulness I went to the local Albert Heijn (Dutch supermarket) to get supplies for the coming week. I ended up getting a lot. My basket was completely full and weighed quite a lot as I made my way towards the checkout. I had everything I needed but then my memory suddenly decided to make an appearance.

“Um... You might not want to hear this right now but I have something important to tell you.” It said sheepishly.

“Hu?” I asked.

“Well... You know how you need money to buy things. Like the stuff you have in your basket.”

“Oh no.” I sighed in realization.

“Yes. You left your wallet at the house. You might want to put everything back.... Sorry” And then it left me again to deal with the embarrassing situation.

“Bugger.”

I tried to look as normal as I could and hide my embarrassment as I started putting everything back on the shelves. I must have looked like I either had a phobia of checkout girls or I was on some kind of shopping trial run, checking if I could carry everything before committing myself to the actual purchasing process. When I got back home to retrieve my forgotten wallet I did not have enough time to go back before the shops closed. I'll have to go back during the week but next time I'll be sure to remember my wallet and my memory.

Anyway.... There was a point to this post but I forgot what it was.

The Long Way Home

Late December, 2002, Haarlem:
It was an early December morning when I slowly opened my eyes and with relief found myself in my own bed. Most of the night before was a messy blur of memories lost in a mix of alcohol. It had been a heavy night of unplanned drinking. My head should have been killing me but it felt fine. Even my stomach felt fine. I didn’t think about it too much. I was just happy the ordeal was over. I could relax.

But then I noticed something very odd indeed…

Flash Back - The Night Before, Amsterdam, Office Christmas Party:
It was the night of the office Christmas party. The festivities had not been planned to well but there was lots of free booze which was all anyone really cared about. For the few hours that the party lasted I drank far more champagne, beer and wine then was intelligent. I don’t really remember how the party ended but I found out later I had started dancing towards the train station (occasionally slipping on ice) with a few co-workers. When we got there I had missed my last train but they put me in a cab and sent me on my way home. The journey passed by in a blur but the driver got me back to Haarlem. This might sound very straight forward and like a bit of a boring story but it does not end there.

I remember trying to use a cash machine so I could pay the driver but I was far to drunk to operate the buttons. I must have told him I would be able to give him the money at my house because I then remember driving around Haarlem again. What I couldn't remember at the time was the directions to my house.

Eventually the driver must have gotten annoyed with my drunken foolishness and kicked me out because after another memory blank spot I found myself in the middle of an unknown part of Holland. For all I knew I could have been in Germany but it was more likely that I was some where between Amsterdam and Haarlem. To this day I don't really know where I was.

I walked for what felt like miles with out knowing where I was going. Despite another memory blank I some how ended up back in Amsterdam, right back where everything had started. In my drunken brain I came up with the idea of taking a night bus home. It seemed perfect. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? So I got on a bus, a random bus. A short while into the journey the rational side of my brain some how managed to surface to tell me the bus was not going any where near home. All I could do was wait for the bus to complete its route.

An hour or two and another memory blank spot later I ended up back in Amsterdam for the second time. I then had the idea of getting a train to a familiar station closer to home and trying to get back from there. It was not a perfect plan but at least it was a plan. Unforchantly even this basic plan fell apart when I missed the stop and got off at the wrong station only to be told there would be no more trains for another four hours. On the upside I would not end up back in Amsterdam again any time soon (I was getting sick of the sight of the place) but on the down side I had no clue where I was either.

I tried to sleep on a bench but was kept awake by a slight pain in my ankle. A few hours later the trams started to run again (before the trains) so I got one back to Amsterdam which was now starting to seem like the city of the dammed that victims could never escape from no matter how hard they tried. By this time I was more sober but staying awake was a battle. The good thing was the trains to Haarlem had finally started running again. I was so happy. The end was in sight. It had been almost eight hours since I had left the party. When I got off the train in Haarlem I limped home and banged on the front door till one of my flat mates let me in (I had lost my keys some where). I climbed up to my room, fell in to bed and closed my eyes. It was finally over…. Or was it.

Back To - Late December, 2002, Haarlem:
It was an early December morning when I slowly opened my eyes and with relief found myself in my own bed. Most of the night before was a messy blur of memories lost in a mix of alcohol. It had been a heavy night of unplanned drinking. My head should have been killing me but it felt fine. Even my stomach felt fine. I didn’t think about it too much. I was just happy the ordeal was over. I could relax....

But then I noticed something very odd indeed… My hang over was in my foot.

I pulled back the covers and saw that my ankle was swollen up like a water balloon. As I had become more sober during the nightmare trip home I had also become aware of a pain in my ankle. At the time I thought I had simply twisted it a little. However, a trip to the hospital confirmed that I had in fact broken my ankle. I felt very embarrassed when I had to tell the doctor that I could not recall how I had done it. I found out later that it had happened while I had been dancing and slipping on the ice. My co-workers said I was complaining that my foot hurt when they helped me back up but I had insisted I was fine to go home. So not only was I drunk but I was most likely in shock too. In total I had spent almost eight hours lost in Holland, drunk and walking around on a broken ankle.

For the following two months I had to keep my leg in a cast and I have never gotten drunk at an office Christmas party since. If this story seems hard to believe I can assure you that every fact (that I can remember) is true. One important thing the whole experience taught me is nothing in the world feels as good as putting on a clean pair of socks for the first time after having your foot in a cast for two months.

Invading Holland Tours

You may not be aware of it at the time but when you become an expat you agree to abide by an unwritten rule. There are some variations on this rule depending on what country you come from and where you are going to but the underlying principle stay the same.

"As an expatriate you here by agree to provide the serves of tour guide to your new country of residence for any and all visiting family, friends, friends of friends and friends distant relatives. You will there for be expected to know the location of all the best, hotels, restaurants, bars, clubs, museums, art galleries, historic buildings, tourist spots and (in the case of some visitors) prostitutes and drug dealers."

I have been subject to this rule on several occasions and its not always easy. Most expats never get around to trying any of the local tourist activities in their new country until someone comes to visit. The first important step that most people forget is to work out what kind of tour visitors will want. It's no good taking someone to the Anne Frank House when they would rather be sitting in Hash Frank's Coffee Shop.

In an effort to aid other expats in Holland with this problem Invading Holland Tours has provided the following guide of available tour types. One tour from the main list should be combined with one or two of the optional extras to create the desired result.

Invading Holland Tours Main List

- Smokers Tour:
This is one of the easiest tours to give because your visitors will rapidly become too stoned to do anything else other then search for the nearest snack provider. In this case it is best to find a coffee shop near a Febo to help give their visit a more authentic Dutch feel.

- Drinkers Tour:
This can be the most messy of the tours and even more chaotic if the tour guide becomes drunk as well. You will need a basic knowledge of good bars and clubs in the area but as the drinking continues you will find visitors become less picky and/or conscience. If you find yourself in the Absinthe Bar you know you are in trouble.

- Cultured Tour:
Some of your more sophisticated visitors may wish to visit the many museums and art galleries around Amsterdam but lets be honest, if your visitors are English and in their 20s the chances of this are low. However, if it should happen a small collection of museums can be found in the Museumplein.

Invading Holland Tours Optional Extras

- Prostitute Tour:
Amsterdam is famous for its Red Light District. Some of your visitors may want to simply look around, others may want to see a live show and one or two may go missing for half an hour and come back with a strange rash.

- Canal Tour:
Maybe the best ways to see Amsterdam is via one of the many canal boat tours. Falling in a canal however is the worst ways to see Amsterdam. In either case it is important to avoid drink the water.

- Un-cultured Tour:
Museum visits don't only have to be for intellectuals in the group. If your visitors are a little more open minded maybe they would like to visit the sex, hash or (if they are into S&M) torture museum.

Disclaimer

Invading Holland Tours can not be held responsible for any problems, hangovers, canal floods, bicycles accidents, boredom, or body snatcher invasions during your tour.